Burial Rites by Hannah Kent

Author:Hannah Kent
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9781743287910
Publisher: Picador Australia
Published: 2013-04-22T12:00:00+00:00

Reverend Tóti left Björn Blöndal’s study with a pounding head. He could not stop thinking of Agnes’s pale face, her low voice in the dark, and the image of red-headed Fridrik, raising a hammer above a sleeping man. Had she been lying to him? He fought off a compulsion to cross himself in the corridor, in front of the busy huddle of female servants lugging pails of milk and pots of waste. He pulled on his shoes against the wall.

It was a relief to be outside. It had grown cloudy and dim, but the cold air, and the strong smell of fish drying on racks near the cowshed, seemed sympathetic to his confusion. He thought of Blöndal’s greasy finger against his throat. The crunch of bone. Natan Ketilsson begging for his life. He wanted to be sick.

‘Reverend!’ Someone was calling him. He turned around and saw Karitas, Blöndal’s servant, running hurriedly after him. ‘You left your coat, sir.’

Tóti smiled and extended an arm to take the garment, but the woman did not let go of it. She pulled Tóti closer and whispered to him, looking at the ground.

‘I need to speak with you.’

Tóti was surprised. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Shh,’ hissed the woman. She glanced over to the servant men gutting the fish on the stone. ‘Come with me. To the stable.’

Tóti nodded and, taking his coat, stumbled towards the large cowshed. It was dark inside, and smelt strongly of manure, although the stalls had already been cleaned. It was empty – all the animals had been taken out to pasture.

He turned around and saw Karitas silhouetted against the open doorway.

‘I don’t mean to be secretive, but . . .’ She stepped closer, and Tóti saw that she was distressed.

‘I didn’t mean to grab at you like that, but I didn’t think I’d have another opportunity.’ Karitas gestured towards a milking stool and Tóti sat down.

‘You are the Reverend attending Agnes Magnúsdóttir?’

‘Yes,’ Tóti said, curious.

‘I worked at Illugastadir. With Natan Ketilsson. I left in 1827, just before Agnes arrived to work there also. She came to take my position as housekeeper. Well, that is what Natan told me.’

‘I see. And what did you want to tell me?’

Karitas paused, as if trying to find the right words. ‘“The treachery of a friend is worse than that of a foe,”’ she said eventually.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘It’s from Gisli Sursson’s Saga.’ Karitas swivelled to the open doorway, checking to see if anyone was coming. ‘He broke his word to her,’ she whispered.

‘His word?’

‘Natan promised Agnes my position, sir. Only, before she arrived, he decided that Sigga should have it.’

Tóti was confused. He absently stroked the feather Blöndal had given him. He still held it in his hand.

‘Sigga was young – fifteen or sixteen, Reverend. Natan knew it would embarrass Agnes to be under her authority.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean, Karitas. Why would Natan promise Agnes a position and then give it to an inexperienced girl half her age?’

Karitas shrugged. ‘Did you ever meet Natan, Reverend?’

‘No, never.

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